(fic) In Credit (2/6)
Title: In Credit (2/6)
Pairing: Boyd Devereaux / Sergei Fedorov
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fiction means I made the whole thing up
previous chapters
Sergei rolls off me when he is done and starts to leave the room.
“We are meeting Igor and some friends for dinner, be ready to leave in an hour. Wear… This.” Sergei pulls a suit from the pile I dropped on the floor. “And put the rest of them away before we leave.”
I roll off the bed and start to gather everything up. When he leaves I drop everything and race to the bathroom to wash the sweat and whatever else is on my face off. I am ready to go before the hour is up, hanging up my clothes beside a bunch of stuff that might be Sergei’s.
Sergei is actually a little bit late.
I don't mention that. He runs his hands across the layers of clothes I have pushed back to make room for mine.
“You can throw those out you know? They aren’t necessary anymore.”
“Ok.” When I take a closer look I see some of them are women’s clothes and some are guys clothes that are to small for Sergei.
“Finish that tomorrow. We have to go.” I follow him blindly down the stairs, into the car, into the restaurant. Igor and Sergei talk in Russian the whole evening with a bunch of people I am not sure speak English, and I am not sure that is a bad thing.
I try to avoid Igor’s eyes although dinner. Sergei is, different, I suppose. I sit next to him, and I am intensely aware of him, his movements, his voice, the way he drinks, and he seems similarly aware of me. Not annoyed by me, just constantly checking I’m still here. He grabs my hand between courses, and when I get up to go to the bathroom he all but follows me in.
It is in the bathroom that Igor finally corners me. Maybe that was why Sergei tried to stay so close.
“How long has this been going on?” it’s weird to hear English, for the past couple of hours it was like sitting in a restaurant in a foreign country. Igor seems genuinely interested for all that I can’t really read his mood. I don’t really know Iggy all that well. He is probably just making sure I am not going to take advantage of Sergei.
But Sergei did say not to discuss this with anyone, so I lie. I just lie a little bit.
“We decided to let people know today.” Then I stare at him, willing him to stop asking questions and leave me alone. The easiest lies are the simple ones. If you just say “I’m fine’ and don’t try to embroider things it’s easier to keep everything you say straight.
“Ok, if you’re not going to say anything else…” I wait out Igor’s patience. “Fine Boyd, be mysterious. How long have you two been seeing each other?”
I think. “A couple of months.” Igor looks like he doesn’t totally believe me, and also walks out of the bathroom first.
I follow closely, trying not to make it look like I am running after him. Igor is patiently waiting for Sergei to finish whatever he is saying to the guy sitting next to him, so I kiss him in the cheek.
Sergei turns around in surprise.
I put my lips right next to his ear and whisper, “I told Iggy we had been dating for two months.”
Sergei nods. “Thanks.” He kisses me on the lips. “Good boy.” And he starts talking to the Russian guy again. I can’t wipe my mouth here at the table and I can feel vodka burning my mouth no matter how many times I take sips of water and run my tongue over my mouth.
I drive us home; Sergei had too much to drink. Fuck his car is nice; I wish it were further to go.
We both fall into bed. I hear every twitch and rustle from beside me until I am sure Sergei is really asleep. He throws his arm over my middle and I stare at the ceiling hoping sleep will come. I don’t push him off, even though it is making it a little hard to breath.
Eventually I fall asleep or black out.
We are going on a seven game road trip, which is good for me, because Sergei prefers to just get blowjobs on the road. I am good at those. We play the Islanders in our first game, and win. I walk past Dandy’s room to Sergei’s. Brett catches my eye and I look straight at him and smile a little bit.
We don’t even officially have to change room mates; which would attract Dave’s official attention. Sergei is alone because Kris always ends up with Kirk and Darren. And Steve and Chris are hardly going to report this when they do bed checks after curfew. I didn’t play great in the game, but no one had to do anything to help me. Sergei is shaving in the bathroom.
“Boyd, in here.” I wander close. “Pass me my cologne will you?” Sergei waves his arm at his bag.
“It’s closed.” I say.
“Well, open it for fucks sake.” Sergei washes his face off.
I pause for a second and open up his bag, it is weird to not want to do that, I used to get stuff from Dandy’s bag all the time. I pass him the cologne. Sergei takes it from me. “Thanks.”
“You’re not going to grow another play-off beard are you?” Sergei starts to change his shirt.
“I hadn’t decided, really, it kind of just happened last time.”
“That wasn’t actually a question, Boyd. They scratch. Get ready will you?”
“Sure. Why?”
Sergei rolls his eyes. “We’re meeting Pavel and Eric,” he looks at his watch, “twenty minutes ago. Be quick.”
I stand next to him, shaving. “Did you bring your things in here?” I nod at his reflection in the mirror. “It’s convenient for Dandy as well,” Sergei smirks, “it means he can have someone with him if he likes. All night if he likes.”
I catch and hold his eyes in the mirror. “Not Dandy Sergei, please? I don’t care about anyone else.”
He doesn’t change expression, but finally nods, “alright. That’s fair.”
“Thank you.” And we both finish getting ready in silence.
In the taxi Sergei talks on his phone only hanging up on whoever it was when we reach the club.
“Stay close to me Boyd.” Sergei grabs my hand as we step out of the cab. “You don’t want to get lost in here.
I walk behind him, tightening my grip on his hand at what is in the, the club I guess. There is loud music and I have to scamper to keep up with Sergei. He nods to various people, pushing his way through curtains and up staircases, going higher and higher.
I only catch glimpses, through curtains on the doors, through smoke and lights, half formed images, I hold onto Sergei much tighter than before.
Clubs to me are warehouses or tiny basements. Places to go hear music and dance, badly Dandy would say, not whatever this place is.
“Don’t drink anything we don’t buy for you here. Ok Boyd?”
I look at Sergei. “All right.”
We finally stop at a red velvet curtain; it should be a joke but the whole place is faintly sinister. Sergei scans the room, pulling me into a booth where Eric Lindros and Pavel Bure are waiting. There are a couple of really attractive, but sullen looking boys with them. I resolve to pretend that they don’t speak English so I can ignore them. Which I do.
But not being involved in the conversation means I can see what is happening around me. It seems a bit tamer than what was downstairs, just bumping and grinding on the small stage to really bad music. The dancers look bored with their routines and with each other, I try not to make eye contact with anyone in the other booths.
After a couple of hours I am drifting off, half bored and half asleep. I can feel the throb from the club below when one of the sullen boys asks me how I hurt my lip. He snickers when he says this and motions to Sergei, who is leaning over the table deep in conversation with Pavel and Eric.
“No.” I say. “It happened in a game, I play hockey for the same team as Sergei.”
Suddenly both sullen boys perk up. “Really,” the darker one coos, “I didn’t realise you did as well.”
Suddenly sullen boys are creeping closer, I can smell something alcoholic on their lips and see the traces of lipstick on darker sullen boys mouth.
There is a cut on his top lip, not the same as the mark that has nearly healed on mine; there is a line of bruises around his neck, and I see more on the top of his arms when he stretches his hands over his head.
I feel his leg touching mine under the table, and I move closer to Sergei.
Lighter sullen boy reaches one of his hands over the table to me. They are very soft, and very small, and there is dirt or something under his fingernails. I touch Sergei’s clean hand, which feels more like what I am used to, broad palms with calluses. He looks at me, and then looks towards the sullen boys.
“Fuck off.”
“Hey!” Lighter sullen boy glares, “you can’t…”
“Now.” Eric cuts in. “Go downstairs.”
They walk out of the room scowling. Eric grins at me. “Sorry Boyd, it’s a pain to deal with them, but they have their uses ya know?”
I nod and smile back. Eric asks me about Bowman and we talk for a while about coaching, how different it is adapting to Lewis, even the Cup, which Eric has never won. Sergei and Pavel switch to Russian.
We start talking about Toronto, where Eric lived and which I know fairly well when Sergei decides to call it a night.
He, Eric, and Pavel throw hundreds down on the table, no one counts how many. I’m not asked to contribute, and I don’t offer. I reach forward for Sergei’s hand, catching up with him as we reach the velvet curtain out of the room, the steps are really steep and it has gotten darker. And that is how we go out, further down this time, past the door where we came in, lower into the basement and Eric’s car.
“Fuckin’ elevators never work in those places.” Eric says idly as he drives us back to the hotel.
“Breaking curfew Sergei? I’ll have to report you. Hey Boyd.” Sergei chuckles at Chris, and with his hand on my back walks us down to his room.
I smile at Chris and watch him go down the hall, away from Henrick’s room I notice with a start. I didn’t pay enough attention in the game to know why he was in there.
I wash my face, when I get into the room; Sergei is sitting on the end of the bed.
“Christ I’m tired.” He runs his hands though his hair. “Be quick.” I smile a bit and kneel down between his legs. I pull his clothes all the way off, since I know he will be going to bed afterwards, and I am good and quick. Sergei rolls under the covers and I sneak off and wash my mouth out. He is sleeping when I come back. I perch over on the other side of the bed and fall asleep as well.
The next thing I remember is him shaking me awake and guiding my hand down, half asleep I feel him moving against me more than I am moving my hand.
I nap all afternoon before the Devils game. Sergei leaves early and does not come back until just before we are supposed to leave for the Meadowlands, he drops a pile of clothes on the bed.
“Take any back that don’t fit before we leave tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” I run my hand along the crease of one shirt, a nice blue, I always liked blue.
“It suits your eyes.” Sergei says and smiles.
I smile back; I would not have thought he would have noticed something like that. That shirt fits perfectly, as do all of them, I ask him later how many I should keep and Sergei frowns. “All of them.” He replies and I leave it at that.
We go out again that evening I yawn twice before dinner is half over and Igor snickers. “You had better get the boy to bed, Feds.”
Sergei laughs and pulls me up, but says he will be back. I wander out, nearly stumbling on the stairs, feeling him catch my arm to keep me upright.
“Sorry.” I say. “I think I was out too late last night.”
Sergei shrugs saying, “you get used to it”, and calls a cab over. When I get to the hotel I realise he paid for it already and I shove the money I was holding at the driver as a tip.
Getting off the elevator I stop at Dandy’s door. I can hear voices, not just his, and I wait for a few breaths, before continuing down to Sergei’s room. It could have been Brett or something, and I didn’t want to interrupt that.
Sergei isn’t that late back. I fumble off my glasses when he comes in, I had been half reading and the book was lying next to me on the bed.
He throws the book on his bedside table and he laughs at the shirt I am wearing.
“Who are the Get Up Kids? Never mind. Take it off.” And he rolls over on top of me. I reach up for him, but he tugs his own clothes off, slapping my hands away. I feel him slide between the cheeks of my ass, but he is not at the right angle to get inside me.
He steadily rocks against me, half telling me a story that Igor had told him after dinner. I don’t really understand it, being filled with Russian names that I can’t recognise; I rock my hips up against Sergei’s, holding his back, keeping him at an angle where he can’t slide inside me.
He stays at the same slow pace, I feel my dick between us get hard as well, and I come before he does.
Sergei falls off me and rolls onto his back. He touches his chest and laughs. “Get a towel will you Boyd?” He slurs the words a bit and points to the bathroom.
I grab a facecloth and wash him off carefully and dry him as well.
“Thanks.” He mumbles and falls asleep.
I clean myself off as well. I shiver a bit without my t-shirt; Sergei has the room colder than I would. I lean up against his back, with the covers pulled right up over my ears, I tell myself it is only until I warm up, but I fall asleep that way.
I don’t play against Pittsburgh. Which sucks, I sit in the press box wondering if I will ever have an assured place on this team.
I can watch the whole game and see a few things I have been missing. I watch Sergei play and I am struck again, as I was before I arrived here, at how good he looks on the ice. He skates gracefully, and he is sort of tightly coiled, like he could explode with speed at any time. Like he could explode at any time.
“Watching Sergei?” I turn to Steve’s gentle smirk.
“No, the game.” But I blush a little bit so he laughs at me.
“You two are an odd couple, good for him though.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I do know what is happening in my team Boyd.” I look at him silently as he goes on. “Sergei needs to have just one person. Be careful around him.”
No fucking kidding, I think. I’m careful like you are when you are moving dynamite. “Sergei is more fragile than people think, I’d hate for you to hurt him as well.” Steve continues.
I don’t look at Steve, and since to respond to that comment would lead to hysterical laughter I ask: “it doesn’t bother you?” I am not sure what question I am really asking him.
“No.” Steve sound surprised. “I know Sergei, I know him well, I know this is more than the typical team mates thanking each other, bonding I suppose, that normally goes on after games. But”, he smiles again, “I still think you will be good for him. You’re fun. He broods.”
“Normal bonding?” I ask quietly.
Steve laughs, attracting the attention of the other people in the box. He drops his voice at bit.
“A few times I found myself, ahh, on my knees I suppose.” He smiles, “don’t look so surprised Boyd, it was good, practise I suppose. It’s a good way to get to know your team mates, as I am sure you have guessed by now. Better than buying drinks, at least there are no hangovers the next day.” He laughs again patting my hand.
I laugh as well. Because you laugh when the Captain laughs, when he has made a joke, which clearly he has. I would prefer to have a team of drunks, take a tithe from every paycheck to pay bar tabs. I am sure Dandy and Pavel and Max would chip in to cover the drinks bill. Hell, I would spring for snacks as well, rather than have to go through this ‘bonding’ after every game.
And I remember that this is the only hockey team that Steve has ever played for. And I wonder if there was a Sergei on his team when he was younger. And I remember that Steve never had to play on the fourth line, ever, and he was drafted high, and seen as a potential saviour for the team, and I doubt he spent a game in the press box when he wasn’t injured, and he has never seriously be an unrestricted free agent and wondered where his future was, and for a second I really, really, hate him.
But then he smiles and touches my hand again and cheers when Brendan scores a goal, and I remember that this is my Captain, and my choices aren’t his fault, and I watch the rest of the game in silence.
Sergei scores a goal as well and I find out what that means.
It means I should be proactive, it means I should make sure there is lube in the drawer by the bed, and it means I should kiss him when he comes in the room.
It is, I decide, a good decision to say ‘great goal’ when I undo his tie, and sensible to throw it to the other side of the room with his belt as soon as I have them off.
Sergei laughs when I kiss the side of his neck, and tell him to sit on the bed. He watches as I take off my clothes, remembering the movements as well as the bored faces of the dancing boys at the club with Pavel and Eric.
I smile the whole time.
When I crawl up the bed to him, and urge him to slide his fingers into me I think about talking about Bowman with Eric, and being his equal.
I slow Sergei down enough that it doesn’t hurt at all, and with him inside of me I feel good enough that I use my hand to bring myself off.
“You’re sleeping on this side.” Sergei mumbles in my ear. I am lying down on the bed and he is stretched across my back.
I laugh. And I get a cloth to clean us off. And it is still fucking cold in the room, and I don’t want to sleep where it is wet, so I lean up against Sergei as he falls sleep, and then I tell myself very sternly that I will Just Go To Sleep - No Thinking. And I do. Eventually.
We are sharing a hotel with the Blues; they play Pittsburgh tonight and had arrived at the hotel some time around when I was dancing for Sergei.
I sit down next to Brett and we both watch him talking to Barrett Jackman. We are both aware of the hero worship in his eyes, and we both look down and see him slide his hand into Chris’.
“It is worse knowing or not knowing?” I say to the foyer air.
“Knowing.” Brett says. “It is better to be ignorant and not wonder what if.”
next
Pairing: Boyd Devereaux / Sergei Fedorov
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fiction means I made the whole thing up
previous chapters
Sergei rolls off me when he is done and starts to leave the room.
“We are meeting Igor and some friends for dinner, be ready to leave in an hour. Wear… This.” Sergei pulls a suit from the pile I dropped on the floor. “And put the rest of them away before we leave.”
I roll off the bed and start to gather everything up. When he leaves I drop everything and race to the bathroom to wash the sweat and whatever else is on my face off. I am ready to go before the hour is up, hanging up my clothes beside a bunch of stuff that might be Sergei’s.
Sergei is actually a little bit late.
I don't mention that. He runs his hands across the layers of clothes I have pushed back to make room for mine.
“You can throw those out you know? They aren’t necessary anymore.”
“Ok.” When I take a closer look I see some of them are women’s clothes and some are guys clothes that are to small for Sergei.
“Finish that tomorrow. We have to go.” I follow him blindly down the stairs, into the car, into the restaurant. Igor and Sergei talk in Russian the whole evening with a bunch of people I am not sure speak English, and I am not sure that is a bad thing.
I try to avoid Igor’s eyes although dinner. Sergei is, different, I suppose. I sit next to him, and I am intensely aware of him, his movements, his voice, the way he drinks, and he seems similarly aware of me. Not annoyed by me, just constantly checking I’m still here. He grabs my hand between courses, and when I get up to go to the bathroom he all but follows me in.
It is in the bathroom that Igor finally corners me. Maybe that was why Sergei tried to stay so close.
“How long has this been going on?” it’s weird to hear English, for the past couple of hours it was like sitting in a restaurant in a foreign country. Igor seems genuinely interested for all that I can’t really read his mood. I don’t really know Iggy all that well. He is probably just making sure I am not going to take advantage of Sergei.
But Sergei did say not to discuss this with anyone, so I lie. I just lie a little bit.
“We decided to let people know today.” Then I stare at him, willing him to stop asking questions and leave me alone. The easiest lies are the simple ones. If you just say “I’m fine’ and don’t try to embroider things it’s easier to keep everything you say straight.
“Ok, if you’re not going to say anything else…” I wait out Igor’s patience. “Fine Boyd, be mysterious. How long have you two been seeing each other?”
I think. “A couple of months.” Igor looks like he doesn’t totally believe me, and also walks out of the bathroom first.
I follow closely, trying not to make it look like I am running after him. Igor is patiently waiting for Sergei to finish whatever he is saying to the guy sitting next to him, so I kiss him in the cheek.
Sergei turns around in surprise.
I put my lips right next to his ear and whisper, “I told Iggy we had been dating for two months.”
Sergei nods. “Thanks.” He kisses me on the lips. “Good boy.” And he starts talking to the Russian guy again. I can’t wipe my mouth here at the table and I can feel vodka burning my mouth no matter how many times I take sips of water and run my tongue over my mouth.
I drive us home; Sergei had too much to drink. Fuck his car is nice; I wish it were further to go.
We both fall into bed. I hear every twitch and rustle from beside me until I am sure Sergei is really asleep. He throws his arm over my middle and I stare at the ceiling hoping sleep will come. I don’t push him off, even though it is making it a little hard to breath.
Eventually I fall asleep or black out.
We are going on a seven game road trip, which is good for me, because Sergei prefers to just get blowjobs on the road. I am good at those. We play the Islanders in our first game, and win. I walk past Dandy’s room to Sergei’s. Brett catches my eye and I look straight at him and smile a little bit.
We don’t even officially have to change room mates; which would attract Dave’s official attention. Sergei is alone because Kris always ends up with Kirk and Darren. And Steve and Chris are hardly going to report this when they do bed checks after curfew. I didn’t play great in the game, but no one had to do anything to help me. Sergei is shaving in the bathroom.
“Boyd, in here.” I wander close. “Pass me my cologne will you?” Sergei waves his arm at his bag.
“It’s closed.” I say.
“Well, open it for fucks sake.” Sergei washes his face off.
I pause for a second and open up his bag, it is weird to not want to do that, I used to get stuff from Dandy’s bag all the time. I pass him the cologne. Sergei takes it from me. “Thanks.”
“You’re not going to grow another play-off beard are you?” Sergei starts to change his shirt.
“I hadn’t decided, really, it kind of just happened last time.”
“That wasn’t actually a question, Boyd. They scratch. Get ready will you?”
“Sure. Why?”
Sergei rolls his eyes. “We’re meeting Pavel and Eric,” he looks at his watch, “twenty minutes ago. Be quick.”
I stand next to him, shaving. “Did you bring your things in here?” I nod at his reflection in the mirror. “It’s convenient for Dandy as well,” Sergei smirks, “it means he can have someone with him if he likes. All night if he likes.”
I catch and hold his eyes in the mirror. “Not Dandy Sergei, please? I don’t care about anyone else.”
He doesn’t change expression, but finally nods, “alright. That’s fair.”
“Thank you.” And we both finish getting ready in silence.
In the taxi Sergei talks on his phone only hanging up on whoever it was when we reach the club.
“Stay close to me Boyd.” Sergei grabs my hand as we step out of the cab. “You don’t want to get lost in here.
I walk behind him, tightening my grip on his hand at what is in the, the club I guess. There is loud music and I have to scamper to keep up with Sergei. He nods to various people, pushing his way through curtains and up staircases, going higher and higher.
I only catch glimpses, through curtains on the doors, through smoke and lights, half formed images, I hold onto Sergei much tighter than before.
Clubs to me are warehouses or tiny basements. Places to go hear music and dance, badly Dandy would say, not whatever this place is.
“Don’t drink anything we don’t buy for you here. Ok Boyd?”
I look at Sergei. “All right.”
We finally stop at a red velvet curtain; it should be a joke but the whole place is faintly sinister. Sergei scans the room, pulling me into a booth where Eric Lindros and Pavel Bure are waiting. There are a couple of really attractive, but sullen looking boys with them. I resolve to pretend that they don’t speak English so I can ignore them. Which I do.
But not being involved in the conversation means I can see what is happening around me. It seems a bit tamer than what was downstairs, just bumping and grinding on the small stage to really bad music. The dancers look bored with their routines and with each other, I try not to make eye contact with anyone in the other booths.
After a couple of hours I am drifting off, half bored and half asleep. I can feel the throb from the club below when one of the sullen boys asks me how I hurt my lip. He snickers when he says this and motions to Sergei, who is leaning over the table deep in conversation with Pavel and Eric.
“No.” I say. “It happened in a game, I play hockey for the same team as Sergei.”
Suddenly both sullen boys perk up. “Really,” the darker one coos, “I didn’t realise you did as well.”
Suddenly sullen boys are creeping closer, I can smell something alcoholic on their lips and see the traces of lipstick on darker sullen boys mouth.
There is a cut on his top lip, not the same as the mark that has nearly healed on mine; there is a line of bruises around his neck, and I see more on the top of his arms when he stretches his hands over his head.
I feel his leg touching mine under the table, and I move closer to Sergei.
Lighter sullen boy reaches one of his hands over the table to me. They are very soft, and very small, and there is dirt or something under his fingernails. I touch Sergei’s clean hand, which feels more like what I am used to, broad palms with calluses. He looks at me, and then looks towards the sullen boys.
“Fuck off.”
“Hey!” Lighter sullen boy glares, “you can’t…”
“Now.” Eric cuts in. “Go downstairs.”
They walk out of the room scowling. Eric grins at me. “Sorry Boyd, it’s a pain to deal with them, but they have their uses ya know?”
I nod and smile back. Eric asks me about Bowman and we talk for a while about coaching, how different it is adapting to Lewis, even the Cup, which Eric has never won. Sergei and Pavel switch to Russian.
We start talking about Toronto, where Eric lived and which I know fairly well when Sergei decides to call it a night.
He, Eric, and Pavel throw hundreds down on the table, no one counts how many. I’m not asked to contribute, and I don’t offer. I reach forward for Sergei’s hand, catching up with him as we reach the velvet curtain out of the room, the steps are really steep and it has gotten darker. And that is how we go out, further down this time, past the door where we came in, lower into the basement and Eric’s car.
“Fuckin’ elevators never work in those places.” Eric says idly as he drives us back to the hotel.
“Breaking curfew Sergei? I’ll have to report you. Hey Boyd.” Sergei chuckles at Chris, and with his hand on my back walks us down to his room.
I smile at Chris and watch him go down the hall, away from Henrick’s room I notice with a start. I didn’t pay enough attention in the game to know why he was in there.
I wash my face, when I get into the room; Sergei is sitting on the end of the bed.
“Christ I’m tired.” He runs his hands though his hair. “Be quick.” I smile a bit and kneel down between his legs. I pull his clothes all the way off, since I know he will be going to bed afterwards, and I am good and quick. Sergei rolls under the covers and I sneak off and wash my mouth out. He is sleeping when I come back. I perch over on the other side of the bed and fall asleep as well.
The next thing I remember is him shaking me awake and guiding my hand down, half asleep I feel him moving against me more than I am moving my hand.
I nap all afternoon before the Devils game. Sergei leaves early and does not come back until just before we are supposed to leave for the Meadowlands, he drops a pile of clothes on the bed.
“Take any back that don’t fit before we leave tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” I run my hand along the crease of one shirt, a nice blue, I always liked blue.
“It suits your eyes.” Sergei says and smiles.
I smile back; I would not have thought he would have noticed something like that. That shirt fits perfectly, as do all of them, I ask him later how many I should keep and Sergei frowns. “All of them.” He replies and I leave it at that.
We go out again that evening I yawn twice before dinner is half over and Igor snickers. “You had better get the boy to bed, Feds.”
Sergei laughs and pulls me up, but says he will be back. I wander out, nearly stumbling on the stairs, feeling him catch my arm to keep me upright.
“Sorry.” I say. “I think I was out too late last night.”
Sergei shrugs saying, “you get used to it”, and calls a cab over. When I get to the hotel I realise he paid for it already and I shove the money I was holding at the driver as a tip.
Getting off the elevator I stop at Dandy’s door. I can hear voices, not just his, and I wait for a few breaths, before continuing down to Sergei’s room. It could have been Brett or something, and I didn’t want to interrupt that.
Sergei isn’t that late back. I fumble off my glasses when he comes in, I had been half reading and the book was lying next to me on the bed.
He throws the book on his bedside table and he laughs at the shirt I am wearing.
“Who are the Get Up Kids? Never mind. Take it off.” And he rolls over on top of me. I reach up for him, but he tugs his own clothes off, slapping my hands away. I feel him slide between the cheeks of my ass, but he is not at the right angle to get inside me.
He steadily rocks against me, half telling me a story that Igor had told him after dinner. I don’t really understand it, being filled with Russian names that I can’t recognise; I rock my hips up against Sergei’s, holding his back, keeping him at an angle where he can’t slide inside me.
He stays at the same slow pace, I feel my dick between us get hard as well, and I come before he does.
Sergei falls off me and rolls onto his back. He touches his chest and laughs. “Get a towel will you Boyd?” He slurs the words a bit and points to the bathroom.
I grab a facecloth and wash him off carefully and dry him as well.
“Thanks.” He mumbles and falls asleep.
I clean myself off as well. I shiver a bit without my t-shirt; Sergei has the room colder than I would. I lean up against his back, with the covers pulled right up over my ears, I tell myself it is only until I warm up, but I fall asleep that way.
I don’t play against Pittsburgh. Which sucks, I sit in the press box wondering if I will ever have an assured place on this team.
I can watch the whole game and see a few things I have been missing. I watch Sergei play and I am struck again, as I was before I arrived here, at how good he looks on the ice. He skates gracefully, and he is sort of tightly coiled, like he could explode with speed at any time. Like he could explode at any time.
“Watching Sergei?” I turn to Steve’s gentle smirk.
“No, the game.” But I blush a little bit so he laughs at me.
“You two are an odd couple, good for him though.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I do know what is happening in my team Boyd.” I look at him silently as he goes on. “Sergei needs to have just one person. Be careful around him.”
No fucking kidding, I think. I’m careful like you are when you are moving dynamite. “Sergei is more fragile than people think, I’d hate for you to hurt him as well.” Steve continues.
I don’t look at Steve, and since to respond to that comment would lead to hysterical laughter I ask: “it doesn’t bother you?” I am not sure what question I am really asking him.
“No.” Steve sound surprised. “I know Sergei, I know him well, I know this is more than the typical team mates thanking each other, bonding I suppose, that normally goes on after games. But”, he smiles again, “I still think you will be good for him. You’re fun. He broods.”
“Normal bonding?” I ask quietly.
Steve laughs, attracting the attention of the other people in the box. He drops his voice at bit.
“A few times I found myself, ahh, on my knees I suppose.” He smiles, “don’t look so surprised Boyd, it was good, practise I suppose. It’s a good way to get to know your team mates, as I am sure you have guessed by now. Better than buying drinks, at least there are no hangovers the next day.” He laughs again patting my hand.
I laugh as well. Because you laugh when the Captain laughs, when he has made a joke, which clearly he has. I would prefer to have a team of drunks, take a tithe from every paycheck to pay bar tabs. I am sure Dandy and Pavel and Max would chip in to cover the drinks bill. Hell, I would spring for snacks as well, rather than have to go through this ‘bonding’ after every game.
And I remember that this is the only hockey team that Steve has ever played for. And I wonder if there was a Sergei on his team when he was younger. And I remember that Steve never had to play on the fourth line, ever, and he was drafted high, and seen as a potential saviour for the team, and I doubt he spent a game in the press box when he wasn’t injured, and he has never seriously be an unrestricted free agent and wondered where his future was, and for a second I really, really, hate him.
But then he smiles and touches my hand again and cheers when Brendan scores a goal, and I remember that this is my Captain, and my choices aren’t his fault, and I watch the rest of the game in silence.
Sergei scores a goal as well and I find out what that means.
It means I should be proactive, it means I should make sure there is lube in the drawer by the bed, and it means I should kiss him when he comes in the room.
It is, I decide, a good decision to say ‘great goal’ when I undo his tie, and sensible to throw it to the other side of the room with his belt as soon as I have them off.
Sergei laughs when I kiss the side of his neck, and tell him to sit on the bed. He watches as I take off my clothes, remembering the movements as well as the bored faces of the dancing boys at the club with Pavel and Eric.
I smile the whole time.
When I crawl up the bed to him, and urge him to slide his fingers into me I think about talking about Bowman with Eric, and being his equal.
I slow Sergei down enough that it doesn’t hurt at all, and with him inside of me I feel good enough that I use my hand to bring myself off.
“You’re sleeping on this side.” Sergei mumbles in my ear. I am lying down on the bed and he is stretched across my back.
I laugh. And I get a cloth to clean us off. And it is still fucking cold in the room, and I don’t want to sleep where it is wet, so I lean up against Sergei as he falls sleep, and then I tell myself very sternly that I will Just Go To Sleep - No Thinking. And I do. Eventually.
We are sharing a hotel with the Blues; they play Pittsburgh tonight and had arrived at the hotel some time around when I was dancing for Sergei.
I sit down next to Brett and we both watch him talking to Barrett Jackman. We are both aware of the hero worship in his eyes, and we both look down and see him slide his hand into Chris’.
“It is worse knowing or not knowing?” I say to the foyer air.
“Knowing.” Brett says. “It is better to be ignorant and not wonder what if.”
next